


What's the Case?

by Poledancingdinos



Category: Night Hunter (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crime Scenes, Domestic Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Minor Character Death, Murder, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poledancingdinos/pseuds/Poledancingdinos
Summary: Marshall gets called to work a case in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Walter Marshall (Night Hunter) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	What's the Case?

**Author's Note:**

> If you are willing to take a few seconds to let me know how you liked the fic it would be greatly appreciated.

Soft buzzing echoed through the bedroom, the only light coming from the small screen which had lit up with an incoming call. The occupant of the bed stirred and groaned before sitting up with a start. He reached for his phone and answered with a husky voice, words slurring slightly from the lingering grogginess.

“Marshall”

“Homicide in the parking lot at the corner of Oakwood Avenue and Hill Street.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

“Just a warning, this is a messy one.”

The line went dead, replaced by the high-pitched dial-tone. The large man threw his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the palms of his hands. He sighed, pushing himself up to walk towards his dresser.

***

_The bell above the door chimed as Marshall walked into the empty coffee shop, shoulders scrunched forward in exhaustion. The detective had been visiting that shop weekly for years. He was a creature of habit and that habit, unfortunately, was to stop by on Saturday mornings having not actually been to sleep yet. He was either grabbing coffee to continue working on whatever case was open once he finally did get home or he was trying to look somewhat presentable for his visit with his daughter, Faye._

_The shop was quaint, the sitting room only big enough for half a dozen tables. The smell of pine detergent lingered in the air from that morning’s cleaning, mixing with the scent of freshly ground coffee. The whole shop was decorated in a modern industrial design. There were visible air ducts across the ceiling, the floor was grey tile and the wall behind the counter was white, painted brick with a large chalkboard hanging in the center, detailing the menu._

_***_

Detective Walter Marshall raced around his barely furnished house collecting his badge, gun and car keys. He’d showered before falling into bed the previous evening, making for a quick departure. His stomach grumbled but he knew there was no point in checking the fridge for a snack since the only thing in it was a bottle of hot sauce and a half empty jug of orange juice.

The door slammed shut behind Marshall as he rushed down the concrete stairs leading to the driveway. He hoisted himself up into the cab, turning the key in the ignition. The truck roared to life and backed out into the night. The man’s stomach growled again as he drove by his usual coffee shop. He looked at the clock for the first time since the commissioner’s call. It was a few minutes past two in the morning meaning the shop wouldn’t be open for another few yours. He would just have to make do.

***

_“Good morning,” a woman called from behind the counter. Her smile was as bright as ever and her tone sounded much more cheerful than what one would normally expect for five o’clock in the morning on a Saturday._

_Walter stepped up to the wooden counter and handed over a ten-dollar bill to pay for his drink without saying a word. He leaned both palms against the counter as the young woman happily rung up his order, which she new by heart after serving him for nearly a year and gave him his change. She wore a curve hugging white t-shirt below a black apron with blue stitching, reading “Penny.” Her chocolate hair was pulled back into a tight bun making it difficult to tell just how long it really was. To a stranger, the detective’s behavior would probably come off as rude or abrasive, but Penny knew better than to be intimidated by his grumpy exterior._

***

Marshall stepped down from his blue Ford pick-up truck onto the freshly paved asphalt of the vacant parking lot. Three patrol cars with flashing red and blue lights were positioned in a triangle pattern, connected by crime scene tape, a lamppost serving as the final corner of the square perimeter. It was a cold fall night in Minnesota, but all Marshall had on was a knit sweater over a thin short-sleeved shirt and a pair of old blue jeans.

The sound of police sirens grew louder in the quiet of the night as another squad car raced past on the adjacent street. A few uniformed officers were standing guard near the thin yellow barrier while others stood near the trunk of the police cruiser, talking with a pair of high school kids who were each holding a skateboard.

Marshall ducked under the tape and greeted the assistant coroner kneeling by the body. One of the uniformed officers approached the tall, bearded man from where he had been speaking with the youngsters.

“Detective Marshall,” the officer saluted.

“Officer Campbell,” Marshall nodded in acknowledgment before returning his gaze to the ground. “Were you first on the scene?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do we have an ID on the victim?” Marshall leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms.

“No, Sir. There was no purse or wallet near the body when we arrived. The kids said they didn’t touch anything, and I’m inclined to believe them based on how freaked out they are.”

“I’ll come talk to them in a minute,” Marshall answered, dismissing the officer.

“Yes, Sir.” The young man retreated to his original position.

***

_“What’s the case this week, Detective?” she asked as she went about preparing Walter’s usual coffee order._

_Marshall glanced around the shop making sure there were no customers who could overhear their conversation. She was the only person outside of the precinct that had ever convinced him to share case details. Still, he was careful not to do so when other people were within earshot and only talked about cases that were officially closed, never on-going investigations. His deep voice echoed in the empty shop as he spoke._

_“DB found by a maid in a fleabag motel room. Female victim in her late twenties, naked on the bed, no purse, no ID, no cash, or other valuables in the room. Clerk at the front desk said the room was paid for in cash and there was no name given when she registered. She had bruising around her neck and petechial hemorrhaging near the eyes but no defensive wounds.”_

_The barista set a steaming cup of coffee down on the counter for Marshall to take, then walked to a small table next to the large front window with her own ceramic mug in hand. She sat on the black metal chair, gesturing for the large man to mirror her action. The chair was dwarfed by his wide thighs and torso, making it look like a children’s toy in comparison._

_“Alright, my first thought would be that she was most likely a prostitute who was strangled by either her pimp or one of her Johns,” Penny began, brows furrowed in concentration._

***

“Female victim in her early to mid twenties. Multiple defensive wounds on her hands and arms, her knuckles are cut open and her knees are bruised. She put up one hell of a fight,” the assistant coroner listed off what had been observed about the victim so far. “Average height, average build, brown hair… She’s going to be hard to ID.”

“She looks like she was dressed for a night out.” He was talking to himself more than to the other man as he took in the sight.

The poor woman lay on her stomach in a sizable pool of blood, dressed in what could only be qualified as a “little black dress” and strappy black pumps. One of her knees was raised making it possible to see the bruising that had started to form before her death. The defensive wounds were consistent with those of a trained fighter, not what one would expect for a young woman. One of her heels lay broken on the ground near the body. Her hair fell in perfect curls over her face, effectively concealing it from the detective’s view. Had it been visible, Walter was sure that he would have been able to see a full face of makeup.

“You thinking it was a robbery-gone-bad?” the man called from the ground.

The detective looked around without answering, trying to imagine how the Jane Doe would have wandered into the vacant lot so late at night. The lamppost on his left was burnt out and the one above the body was flickering on and off. The nearest bar was at least a 20-minute walk from their current location, and it was another 20 minutes to make it to the closest residential area. It was unlikely that any young woman would have chosen to walk alone through the dimly lit parking lot on her way home wearing those high heels, but it was not impossible.

_***_

_“Not a bad assumption. What if I told you there was a fresh tan line of a wedding ring on her finger?”_

_The woman considered his statement for a moment, chewing unconsciously on her lower lip._

_“Were there any clothes or any signs that the hotel room was actually lived in?”_

_The man leaned back against the cool metal, studying the woman as he took a large gulp of coffee. The natural light coming in from the morning sun did nothing to hide his disheveled curls or the dark circles under his eyes, which tainted his handsome face. Penny wished she could see him well rested and cleaned up for once._

_“No clothes other than a matching set of expensive lingerie, a cocktail dress and a pair of heels. There were a few things knocked over in the room, possibly the result of a struggle or really vigorous sex, and the bed had definitely been used.”_

_“Doesn’t fully rule out robbery-gone-bad but it seems improbable since she would most likely not have had much to steal. Besides, if she was indeed married, then the husband is the first suspect.”_

_“That sounds like a saying you pulled from CSI or something,” he smirked, tilting his head to the side. He loved watching her work out the cases in her head. He teased her often, but in reality, he was very impressed by her natural instincts for crime solving._

_“Well, it doesn’t make it any less true, even if I have seen every single episode of Vegas, Miami and New-York,” she joked. “Seriously, though, I think that she probably had her ring off to meet a lover or something. Husband caught on to what was going on, interrupted them and killed his wife after chasing off whoever she was with. The husband probably panicked choosing to take her purse and any other valuables to make it look like she was robbed.”_

_“You’re getting way too good at this.” The corners of his lips turned up into a slight smirk, deepening the crow’s feet that were beginning to appear._

_“That’s because you keep giving me easy cases. Anyone can guess that a naked prostitute was probably killed by a client or her boss and that a jealous husband could possibly kill his wife and/or her lover. You need to give more challenging cases.”_

_Marshall made a face, showing his disagreement with her last statement._

_“Come on, Detective. If I want to make it to the same place you are, I need to be the best and that means learning from the best,” she pouted in a way that was not dissimilar to the look his teenage daughter gave him when she wanted something. Her flattery, however, was not going to change his mind._

_“You’ll see enough horrors every day when you graduate from the police academy, you don’t need to spend your last weeks of freedom hearing about past ones as well.”_

_***_

The CSI team had finally arrived at the scene, so Marshall turned and walked over to the skateboarders, who were leaning against one of the patrol cars, to give them space to work. The teenagers stood up straighter as the large man strut towards them with his usual intimidating demeanor. The conversation was short, the detective not learning any new information from taking their statements. When they finished, Officer Campbell and his partner arranged for the two spooked boys to be driven home, their parents having already been informed of the unfortunate situation. He asked the other officers to canvass the area for a purse or wallet before returning to the other side of the tape.

“Fred, I’m going to need you to check for sexual assault.”

The assistant coroner looked up at the source of the gruff voice.

“Yes, of course. I was just about to roll our Jane Doe, so you’ll get a better idea of what her fatal wounds were.”

Fred repositioned himself on the other side of the body before carefully turning over the lifeless woman. The color drained from Marshall’s already pale face, making him look ghostly. His heart began to pound against his rib cage and his breathing became unsteady. Over a dozen stab wounds sullied the woman’s abdomen and torso in addition to the defensive slashes across the rest of her body. The detective cursed under his breath and crouched near the woman’s head, bracing himself against the shock that was overtaking him. He remained motionless, eyes wide, after the movement had caused some of the victim’s hair to shift revealing her face. Marshall starred at her lacerated features for over a minute before snapping out of his trance.

“Penny,” Marshall whispered.

“Excuse me?” Fred answered, looking around the body, confused.

“Her name was Penny.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://poledancingdinos.tumblr.com/)


End file.
